


Big Boy Games

by reiicharu



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Why Akame why, Why are Jin and Kame such idiots, lots and lots of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 06:29:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reiicharu/pseuds/reiicharu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jin's pretty competitive. So is Kame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big Boy Games

**Author's Note:**

> Posted sometime in 2011. I really should look up my dates properly. Timeline in this is sketchy, but I couldn't help repost because I'm just fond of how they're completely horrid for each other and unashamedly so.

 

 

You can’t have the world, Jin wants to tell him.

 

Kamenashi’s pretty good at ignoring him. Kamenashi never likes being corrected by anyone—least of all, Jin. He wouldn’t listen anyways.

 

“It must be hard, being born with a face like that,” Kamenashi remarks.

 

Jin thinks he should pretend to be hurt.

 

 

*

 

 

This is the game; Kame sets the standard, everyone else tries to reach it whilst Jin says, ‘fuck you’ and walks away. They damn anyone that gets in their path.

 

Nakamaru sometimes sits with his hands over his mouth, mortified at the mess the two of them have made.

 

“You might need a new wig soon,” Jin says.

 

“Can’t you two find more conventional hobbies, like chess?” Nakamaru requests, tired and yet he does nothing to stop them. It’s for the better, because Nakamaru’s too old to keep up with them.

 

“I’m not so good at chess,” Jin laughs, lying right through his teeth.

 

Kamenashi never waits for him, surging on ahead and finding more pawns to push towards Jin, a temptation that he knows Jin can’t resist.

 

 

*

 

 

Their game goes halfway across the world—a prominent victory is—was—LA.

 

Kamenashi didn’t bother stopping him, didn’t threat to disembowel him like Koki did, doesn’t punch him in the gut like Ueda did and didn’t turn up to see him off like Nakamaru and Taguchi. It’s better that way because it’s not Kamenashi’s style.

 

He played dirty, hitting below the belt by turning up the morning Jin’s meant to leave.

 

“Going to tie me up, stop me from going to the airport?” Jin mocked, ready for anything.

 

Kamenashi smiled. He wrapped his arms around Jin, hugging him. “Don’t look back,” he whispered, right into Jin’s ear.

 

 

*

 

 

In retrospect, Jin should have known better. Jin likes to pretend that Kamenashi isn’t a total lunatic so he thinks it’s all good.

 

Three months into Jin’s LA stay and Nakamaru starts frantically texting, “Please come home. Kame just threw a folding chair at the wall.”

 

“Please come home, Kame stopped chain smoking and started playing the trumpet.”

 

“Please come home, Kame’s picked up golf and brought his clubs to work.”

 

“Please come home, Kame bought a new baseball bat.”

 

Jin thinks that his victory is rather hollow with Kamenashi fucking things up by being such a little princess about it.

 

 

*

 

 

“Damn you.”

 

Kamenashi laughs, tossing the feather boa into the laundry bin of the dressing room. “Oh, come on. I just missed you.”

 

“And this why you’re such a great actor, you can lie so well,” Jin rants.

 

“Please, I think it was ingenuous.”

 

“It was you being a bratty diva, there’s nothing smart about it,” Jin protests.

 

They know this is just another round, nothing more, nothing less. Kamenashi likes to pull the rug out from under Jin—Jin should have been prepared, but he wasn’t.

 

“Admit it, you weren’t expecting that,” Kamenashi continues.

 

Jin lets the smile flicker to his mouth. “I expect more.”

 

“You’ve always been a greedy bastard, Akanishi.”

 

 

*

 

 

“What did I do to deserve this?” Nakamaru bemoans.

 

Koki looks up from where he’s threading some thin silver chains through the eyelets of his boots. “Do you want me to list it by order of importance or alphabetically? We could be here for awhile.”

 

“Maybe you two should talk,” Taguchi suggests, attempting to be diplomatic but he doesn’t care. He just wants some quiet so he can play his DS without Jin and Kamenashi getting into some big row.

 

“Maybe we should throw them into a ring and scream ‘fight, fight, fight’. We could even sell tickets to the show,” Ueda remarks.

 

Jin pretends to hate it, starts listing off how Kamenashi is impossible to deal with but in his mind, he laughs and laughs because Kamenashi’s gone to buy coffee from the vending machines and Jin’s here, driving him out of the room.

 

“You gotten over it yet?” Jin asks later, when it’s the two of them stretching and warming down from dance rehearsal. Jin got all the parts right, Kamenashi took an extra ten minutes to stop instinctively adding in extra flounces.

 

Kamenashi smiles, shaking his head. “I never got worked up in the first place.”

 

He leaves Jin to the drowning silence of an empty room.

 

Jin feels victory slipping away almost instantly, remembering how everyone looked at Kamenashi, asked why the hell is he so unfocused for once, what’s going on. Jin curses and thinks that maybe they should set guidelines and boundaries to what weapons they can use.

 

 

*

 

 

“You never did like the rules, Akanishi.”

 

“True,” Jin agrees. “But you like to get your hands dirty.”

 

“I’ll neither deny nor admit to anything. Assume what you want.”

 

 

*

 

 

They’re filming, all six of them.

 

Jin’s got it down pat, sulking with his fedora, trying to act like the world’s a thorn in his side.

 

Kamenashi crushes the water bottle in his hands, never mind that he gets his clothes wet.

 

“You think you’re so clever?” Kamenashi hisses. “You’re bringing work into this.”

 

Jin has him by the collar, the two of them shoving and pushing and wrestling until they trip and slam into a wall. “You never complained before.”

 

Kamenashi takes a second to study him, eyes unreadable and mouth curled into a tight snarl. “You think you can risk it all?”

 

There’s a stark difference between an idol and a star—Jin wants to be a supernova whilst Kamenashi wants to conquer the world. They don’t discuss their ambitions; dreams are the last thing they’d want in the firing line.

 

“And you can?” Jin challenges.

 

“I’m looking out for you.”

 

“How touching,” because it is.

 

And the truth is, “I have to work with you.”

 

They survey each other, understanding passing between them. Kamenashi lets go of Jin’s plaid jacket and Jin unclenches his hands from the fists they’ve curled into.

 

“LA was never about you,” Jin says quietly, just to extend a peace offering.

 

Kamenashi nods, a slight tilt of the head. “I know. Why do you think I let you go?”

 

They part ways and the next time they film something for work, Jin is smiling and poking fun at Taguchi like it’s all totally okay. Jin also gets a kick out of how Kamenashi tears up his schedule because the cameras just won’t stop pointing at Jin all fucking day long.

 

 

*

 

 

The gloves come off.

 

They fuck the rules, make management cry, make Nakamaru tear his hair out (or take his wig off, as Kamenashi likes to sneer) and Ueda writes a song about a cat and a mouse game that might or might not be about them. Luckily, Koki finds it hilarious and decides to commentate whilst Taguchi keeps up with the most recent Square Enix game.

 

“One day, it won’t be enough,” Ueda tells him, a warning because his role is to step in when they are too close to the flame.

 

Jin nods. “I know.”

 

“Be careful.”

 

“I won’t.”

 

 

*

 

 

Kamenashi calls him an STD buffet.

 

Jin tries to find a metaphor for ratings’ acid. He thinks ‘drama bomb’ isn’t apt enough.

 

“Oh please, you can do better,” Kamenashi taunts.

 

“I can,” Jin agrees. “But you don’t deserve it.”

 

 

*

 

 

They could be generals, throwing people into their battlefields and not caring that things fall apart right around them. The prize doesn’t exist, only victory motivates them.

 

“You’re crazy, Kamenashi.”

 

“It’s better that way,” Kamenashi says.

 

Jin thinks that he might need to do better after all. He writes songs in foreign languages, things that no one else can understand—even Pi gets a bit confused but just encourages him. He lets it get personal.

 

Management sighs and lets him record.

 

“So that’s what its come to, Akanishi?” Kamenashi asks. He has no right to talk, he spent far too long reading history books over a damn song.  He’s already figuring how to blackmail management into letting him fly for the live performance.

 

“You never gave me boundaries.”

 

You always like to reach for the sky, Jin nearly says.

 

For a second, maybe he’s won.

 

 

*

 

 

“Fuck,” Jin curses when the choreographer hands them parasols to dance with.

 

“Next time,” Koki hisses, “Don’t get us involved. I look ridiculous with this thing.”

 

Kamenashi _radiates_  smugness.

 

*

 

 

They never drink together. Kame has his inappropriate relationships with older women, the rest of KAT-TUN. Jin calls together his troops and knows the owner of Lex on a first name basis. It’s easier this way.

 

Jin never calls Kame when he’s sober. Never calls him when he’s drunk either.

 

“You’re pretty easy to read, Akanishi.”

 

Jin pulls off his sunglasses, rubs his temples and tries to deal with his stupid hangover. “I’m hung over. Nothing to read.”

 

Kamenashi hands him a water bottle. “You should call me.”

 

Jin pauses, thinking that these are dangerous grounds to walk on. “Really.”

 

“Think about it.”

 

 

*

 

 

There’s nothing to think about, with Jin’s jeans around his ankles and him coming so hard into Kamenashi’s mouth he swears he sees the stars.

 

 

*

 

 

Kamenashi treats it like it’s no big deal, that just a day ago he bent Jin over a table and fucked him to every inch of his life. He goes on with his business—and it really is just business—and tells Ueda to get a haircut, Taguchi is being too loud and when will Nakamaru buy a new sweater vest?

 

“It’s like you’re having trouble walking,” Koki says slyly.

 

He doesn’t like the turn of the tables, the helplessness washed over him as Kamenashi eats it all up and Jin thinks that he’s losing.

 

 

*

 

 

“Never again.”

 

“Okay,” Kamenashi agrees. He slams Jin against a wall, kisses him. “Tell me one thing. If your song is about world peace, why does Wonder need female back up dancers?”

 

“It’s about universal love.”

 

“What type of shit is that?”

 

“And your solo is about a guy who has a serious case of mistaken identity. I’m glad our music reflects our individual selves.”

 

Kamenashi’s hand curls right around Jin’s dick and his eyes flash, dark and dangerous. “You wouldn’t know what I’m writing about.”

 

“No,” Jin agrees.

 

Kamenashi’s smug, just for a moment.

 

“And I don’t want to know either.”

 

 

*

 

 

No one keeps the score and Jin sure as hell doesn’t tally up his wins or losses on the wall of his apartment.

 

“I think it’s complicated,” Pi says doubtfully. “I’m your friend and we don’t play games like that.”

 

“We aren’t friends.” It’s just a game, after all. It’s only a game.

 

“But you were,” Pi remarks.

 

“I’m your best friend, wouldn't you be jealous?” Jin jokes.

 

“I would. But I’d be happy if you two got along. It’d make things a lot easier.”

 

“Why not try the Ryo-Ueda hate war then?” Jin advises, taking the dart and throwing it at the board. “More beer?”

 

Yamapi orders, looking at Jin expectantly. “You lost last round, you should pay.”

 

“Wrong,” Jin corrects. “I won.”

 

Yamapi is understandably confused.

 

 

*

 

 

Kamenashi works hard, far too hard. He works for the looks, the dramas, the reed thin voice.

 

“And you just glide through. You see, we’re different. So shut up and learn your lines for the single,” Kamenashi snaps, nerves on end.

 

“Does it bother you?” Jin asks, smirking.

 

“Yes.”

 

“It’s too bad then,” he adds, a tad bit vicious.

 

But Kamenashi takes it in stride, looking at Jin with cold eyes. “But it means that I deserve my merit. What can you say about your accomplishment? What effort is there behind in?”

 

“I work hard as well.”

 

“Mmm. I’m sure you do. Documented, all in the tabloids of your hard work.”

 

The next day, Jin submits a request to his manager on whether he can get a run of solo concerts sometime soon.

 

 

*

 

 

It’s not fair that Kamenashi can build armies. He has Juniors, he has senpai, he has a network of people within the industry.

 

Jin has that too, except Jin’s network is the people who he drinks with, laughs with and has a good time with. Jin thinks that Kamenashi’s network is an intricate and delicate web that might fray sometime in the future.

 

But it’s extended to KAT-TUN. It’s not fair, because Jin’s not all that complicated. Jin doesn’t mind some vodka and music pumping through the bass. Kamenashi is all about the vintage wine and the right god damn ambiance, as though things like that really matters.

 

See, complicated.

 

“You’re playing into his hands,” he snaps at Taguchi one day, when they’re waiting for the van. They bullied Nakamaru into going to find a vending machine to get them hot cans.

 

Taguchi smiles, placid and all knowing. “It’s only being played if you’re in the game. I’m just letting him have his fun.”

 

“He’s not your friend,” Jin hisses.

 

But it’s a bit wrong, because Taguchi’s not in the game and it should hurt.

 

It doesn’t hurt because Taguchi laughs. “Oh Jin-kun. He is my friend.”

 

 

*

 

 

“Are you and Taguchi friends?”

 

Kamenashi unwraps the scarf around his neck, dumping it on the table. He takes his time, that bastard. “Does it matter?”

 

“Are you answering me?”

 

“Does it bother you?”

 

Yes.

 

“Your silence says yes, but your pissed off aura says no. So, what’s the answer?” Kamenashi drawls, unzipping his coat as well.

 

“Why?”

 

“Why not? I’m allowed to have friends.”

 

Jin nearly explodes, nearly smashed Kamenashi’s face into the wall. But he doesn’t because management would kill him and Ueda would turn Jin into his newest sandbag. “There are limits to this, Kamenashi.”

 

“Really? Geography should be one of them, don’t you think?”

 

“You said—”

 

“I lied,” Kamenashi cuts in. “I’m good at that.”

 

“Yeah, considering it’s our job,” Jin snaps, not sure if he’s taking it too far. Fuck boundaries, fuck limits. They’ve been at this for too long, since day one—if there ever was a day one with them.

 

Kamenashi surveys him, calm. The storm’s brewing. “You lie as well, you know.”

 

Jin nods numbly. He’s not proud of it.

 

And Kamenashi leaves the room, satisfied that it’s point, set and match.

 

 

*

 

 

 They’re civil to each other—polite, professional, grown ups. No one demands kindness or sympathy or anything more because god forbid Kamenashi Kazuya overextend himself and people would faint from shock if Jin actually _cared_.

 

“You should sleep more.”

 

Kamenashi doesn’t look up from his script.

 

“If you collapse, people will freak out.” And I have to put up with their bullshit, Jin adds silently.

 

And yet, no sign of actually hearing what Jin said.

 

“Look, I don’t know what’s the deal but maybe you should eat. Stop relying on cigarettes and coffee.”

 

“How long?” Kamenashi says, finally. He turns a page, highlights something, underlines and makes a note. There’s stacks of papers and books next to him. He never stops thinking, never stops when it comes to trying to be perfect. Whether it works, god only knows.

 

Jin tosses his water bottle from hand to hand. “You know the answer.”

 

“I want to hear it from you.” And this is probably as honest as they get.

 

“About a month. Thirty-two shows. The set list will be mine.”

 

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about the set list. I just need you to be in one piece for any filming we have.” True, perfect professional. But finally, Kamenashi looks at him. His hair is a dishevelled and flat, no product in it. It’s homely.

 

Finally, Jin breaks eye contact, pointing at the stack of manga. “What are those?”

 

“Research.”

 

“Ah.” So Kamenashi won’t be coming.

 

“You should invite the others. Ueda’s done solo concerts. You should ask him for advice.”

 

He can’t help but be petulant, “I don’t need advice. These are my shows.” But of course, that’s a bit much. Jin respects Ueda and his visions and his own outlooks but it is true. They’re his shows and Jin wants to call it how he sees it. He’s not going to get up there in a fur-lined jumpsuit and sing about butterflies and rainbows.

 

“I never said you had to take it. I just said you should ask him.” Kamenashi shuts his script, picks up one of the files the managers left for him. He looks at it, tosses it aside and takes a long gulp of coffee. He tosses the empty cardboard cup into the bin as well, once he’s done with it.

 

Jin’s not sure if he should offer help or maybe book Kamenashi a weekend at a spa.

 

“Are you stressed?” he asks.

 

They both know the answer to that.

 

 

*

 

 

Solo concerts, drama role, they’re almost on even footing. But no, it’s Jin that snaps Kamenashi’s necklaces, the beads and chains and pendants clattering to the floor. He likes how it’s beyond repair because Kamenashi will probably yell about it later.

 

He doesn’t get to preen about it, no. Because Jin’s being dumped onto the table, all the books, all the scripts, all the lyric sheets shoved to the ground as Kamenashi pushes his way between Jin’s legs.

 

“Impatient,” Jin chuckles. “When was the last time you got laid?”

 

Kamenashi promptly yanks on Jin’s hair. Hard.

 

“You’ve been growing it,” Kamenashi observes.

 

“Does Takano Kyouhei have long hair? I thought he was meant to look like Takki-senpai,” Jin mocks, breath hot on Kamenashi’s face.

 

“You want to bring up Takki? Now?” Kamenashi looks vaguely traumatised.

 

“I was just making a point.”

 

“Point noted, now will you shut up?”

 

Jin doesn’t get much choice in that matter, not with Kamenashi undoing his fly with his _teeth_.

 

It’s becoming neither win nor lose, just the two of them struggling of their eternal game of tug-o-war because Jin’s scratched his hands up Kamenashi’s back, Kamenashi’s the one who’s stroking his cock and then the two of them let their eyes meet. Nope, no one’s winning right now.

 

“Trust me, I want your drama to tank.”

 

Kamenashi laughs. “I hope you fall over on stage so hard that you cry,” he says into Jin’s ear, right before he licks the shell of it.

 

“Real men don’t cry.”

 

“Drama scriptwriters would like to debate you on that.”

 

“Are you going to fight me or fuck me, Kamenashi?”

 

Kamenashi takes a moment, surveying him and letting his gaze run one smooth trace down Jin’s bottom because no, this isn’t dignified.

 

Maybe he should walk out, Jin thinks. He would, if he weren’t hot and flustered and wanting to get off damn bad, preferably with Kamenashi’s hand wrapped around his dick, preferably with Kamenashi’s other hand over his mouth to muffle his groan when his orgasm tears right through him.

 

“I should fuck you,” Kamenashi agrees. “But I won’t, this time.”

 

 

*

 

 

Jin has to get himself off in the men’s bathroom on the fifth floor, trying hard to moan loudly, trying to think so much of the last time it was him and Kamenashi—the only one they decided, hey why not just take the phrase of ‘fucking with each other’ literally.

 

Kamenashi’s a fucking drug, Jin thinks. People like him shouldn't be idols.

 

Jin comes with a great shudder and the thought of how he’s going to one up Kamenashi the next time.

 

 

*

 

 

Koki starts up the betting pool. It’s on tabloid rumours, which will turn up first—warring with a bandmate (Ueda and Jin are the front runners), relationship scandal (Koizumi Kyoko), inappropriate behaviour in public (more taxi driver abuse).

 

Half the Jimusho bets on it. ARASHI hit it up hard, high numbers and all because they have lots of disposable income.

 

Jin’s half tempted to throw a fit to make Kamenashi look bad because Matsumoto bet quite a large sum on taxi driver and Ninomiya is riding on Ueda and Kamenashi revisiting their Junior days with a boxing match.

 

“Don’t fuck with my book keeping,” Koki warns.

 

“Who, me?” Jin asks innocently.

 

“I’m watching you,” Koki growls.

 

“Why can’t you people play bridge in your spare time? I would stress a lot less,” Nakamaru wails.

 

 

*

 

 

Jin corners Kamenashi—it’s not hard, just wait for him to go on a smoking break and push him into the stairwell when no one is following or watching.

 

“Yes?” Kamenashi asks.

 

Jin pushes him against a wall, kisses him with such harshness until Kamenashi drops his packet of menthol cigarettes and the lighter.

 

“What was that?” Kamenashi demands, voice strangled.

 

Jin lets a smile quirk at the corner of his mouth. He walks away, ignoring Kamenashi’s demands for an answer.

 

He tastes like winter melting away, Jin realises. Kame is almost like spring.

 

 

*

 

 

Yamapi looks horrified. “You two had sex?”

 

“So? I’ve had sex with a lot of people.”

 

“Not that many people, Casanova. Most of them were _girls_.”

 

Jin looks at Yamapi sharply.

 

“I don’t have a problem with that,” Yamapi says, exasperated. “But it’s not exactly healthy for you two, emotionally. Or mentally. I’m surprised you let each other live. Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” Yamapi demands, almost sadden to be kept out of the loop. “Who else knows?”

 

“You. Kamenashi. It was ages ago. But he wouldn’t fuck me. Why?”

 

“God, are we having this conversation?” Yamapi groans, burying his face in his hands. “I’m going to need therapy, you do know that, right?”

 

“Stop being a baby, I was the one who had his cock in me.”

 

“Please stop, don’t talk anymore. Shut up. Right now.”

 

A pause.

 

“Was it good?” Yamapi asks, peeking through his fingertips.

 

Jin lights a cigarette, exhaling smoke when he laughs. “Yeah. Why else do you think I want it to happen again?”

 

 

*

 

 

“It’s not that, it’s because I turned you down,” Kamenashi says when Jin tries to proposition him. “I’m busy, I haven’t slept for a day and I need food. You hate losing.”

 

“I’ll buy you dinner,” Jin drawls.

 

“Dinner, like dinner, date and a movie? And I take my pants off for you?”

 

“Something like that, yeah.”

 

“You’re asking me on a date?” Kamenashi looks at him expectantly.

 

Jin gulps. “Oh.”

 

Kamenashi laughs, because he’s won for sure. “You don’t like me. You certainly don’t want to date me. So if you want to have sex with me, but your only sentimental attachment in regards to me is our ‘whatever’, then I can say no.”

 

“But you want it as well.”

 

“Of course I want it. You’re offering, aren’t you?”

 

Jin wonders why talking to Kamenashi sometimes is like a complicated dance. No matter how many times you learn the steps, you’ll always screw up somewhere. But he hesistates.

 

“Piece of advice—”

 

“Don’t need it,” Jin snaps.

 

“Don’t ask questions you can’t answer and don’t demand what you can’t give.”

 

 

*

 

 

They end up screwing against a wall, Kamenashi’s legs around his waist and their mouths pressing briefly for kisses that hold more fire than affection.

 

Jin thinks he can call it a day, especially when Kamenashi shudders and comes with a breathy moan, right into his ear.

 

“I heard you rehearsing Care,” and his victory suddenly seems so hollow.

 

 

*

 

 

Jin doesn’t like losing his temper, doesn’t enjoy it when Kamenashi stands there and just takes it because it makes Jin look like the unreasonable bad guy in all this.

 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Screw your drama, if I mess up, that means no chance of ever having solo concerts ever,” Jin shouts.

 

Kamenashi looks at him. “Is that all you want, Jin?”

 

It’s so foreign, his name on Kame’s tongue.

 

“You don’t know what I want.”

 

“You like to win. I hate to lose. You tell me if I don’t understand you.”

 

“You can’t have the world, can’t read people like they’re fucking books,” Jin snaps.

 

Kamenashi folds his arms across his chest, far too amused instead of worked up. It’d be better if he got into it, started yelling, started shouting and bringing up the past and finding some sort of emotional dynamite to hurl at Jin. It’d be easier.

 

“So what do you suggest I do?”

 

“Would you even listen to me?” Jin snarls.

 

“No,” Kamenashi admits, laughing. “But I’m curious.”

 

“This—you can’t just play around with me.”

 

“Why? You had no problems doing the same with me.”

 

“God, has it ever occurred to you that people aren’t toys?” Jin hisses.

 

“Funny, because you seem to be the type that forgets that you can’t drop someone like a stone and then come back, expecting them to wait for you,” Kamenashi retorts.

 

This is a fight, an actual argument that should have black and white somewhere along the lines. But there isn’t because there’s no logic to the games they play.

 

“I never asked anything of you,” Jin says.

 

“And I never wanted any of you,” Kame replies.

 

“So I’m glad we understand each other.”

 

 

*

 

 

“Don’t you fucking walk away from me,” he shouts.

 

Kamenashi turns, walks right back to him.

 

Jin grabs him, wants to break him but he doesn’t.

 

Kamenashi’s hands are digging into the fabric of his shirt, tilting his head up in defiance. “So, I can’t walk away,” he states.

 

“You don’t understand me at all, not in the least,” Jin continues, shaking with rage.

 

“You know what I understand? We’re selfish, ambitious idiots stuck with one another.”

 

“I could leave,” Jin threatens.

 

Kamenashi laughs, some of the pretence fading away. “Go ahead. We can sell the group without you. More screen time for everyone else.”

 

His heart stops.

 

“This isn’t a game. The group isn’t a game,” Jin whispers.

 

“Your dreams aren’t a game.”

 

“It’s not like that,” Jin insists, weak.

 

Kamenashi looks him over, almost amused but rather, pitying him. “Jin. People like you who just glide through, they’re the ones who get knocked over by people like me who push and shove.”

 

“You’re joking, right?” Jin splutters.

 

This isn’t a game anymore, this isn’t one more prize to win, seeing who can decide the fate of the next few years. This isn’t the same. It’s more than that.

 

“I’m not. It’s never been enough for neither of us. One day, I’ll take a shovel and beat you over the head with it because you’re taking up my screen time.”

 

“Kiss me.”

 

Kamenashi looks at him strangely. “You do realise I was being serious?”

 

“Yes. So kiss me.” Jin falters. “Please.”

 

And Kame does, he kisses Jin, pulling him close and pressing the two of them together so it’s just warmth and promise. “I don’t know what you want, I just know that win doesn’t always mean you’re in first place,” he murmurs.

 

Jin inhales, a sharp and shaky breath. “That makes no sense.”

 

“True,” Kame agrees. “But nothing really make sense now, does it?”

 

 

*

 

 

When the call for LA comes again, he discusses it with the entire group.

 

Kamenashi says absolutely nothing.

 

Jin closes his eyes, wondering which of them is waving the white flag.

 

 

*

 

 

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” Kamenashi says, cornering Jin when they’re both off for a smoking break.

 

“I don’t know,” Jin admits.

 

“You should,” Kamenashi snaps, “We’re releasing a god damn single and an album without you. Any day soon, I’ll hear about you going off on a solo career.”

 

“You’re meant to give me some deep, inspirational speech about chasing my dreams,” Jin says weakly.

 

“Koki’s got it written up, Nakamaru’s already trying to memorise it. Taguchi’s baking cupcakes and Ueda isn’t impressed. I’m leaving everything deep and meaningful to everyone else.”

 

Jin kisses Kame, dropping his cigarettes so he can pull Kame close, maybe just one more time.

 

 

*

 

 

“Tell me one thing,” Jin says, when he’s packing his bags and Kamenashi’s lying in his bed, sheets around his waist and too busy trying to type up an essay for whatever magazine he’s writing for now. Something about cameras and photographs and meaning.

 

“What?”

 

“If I leave, does it all stop?”

Kamenashi hits save, lowers the screen so he can look at Jin calmly. “Well, it’s up to you, isn’t it?”

 

“How so? I’ll be miles away.”

 

Kamenashi rolls onto his side. Jin sits on the edge of the bed.

 

“The thing is, everyone else knew it was coming,” Kamenashi says simply. “It’s not like it’s no surprise. It’s what you’ve been aiming for, whether you’ll admit to it. I’m the only one who thought maybe I could convince you to stay. I’m going to pretend I’m okay with this, but maybe I’ll tie you up so I can stop you from going to the airport.”

 

Familiarty hits him like a wave. Jin’s not sure how that’s sitting with him. “Kinky,” he finally replies. “You’ve always liked it rough.”

 

 

*

 

 

Kamenashi stays with him, the night before he has to fly off.

 

“Don’t go,” Kamenashi says in the morning. He grabs onto Jin by the wrist, the perfect drama hero with the good looks, the talent, the stupid voice that has sunshine with a touch with gloomy spiders. “Please don’t go.”

 

“I’ve never liked letting you win,” Jin replies quietly.

 

Kamenashi smiles, watching as Jin prys his fingers off his wrist. “I know.”

 

“I want to go.”

 

“Good luck.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“What for?” Kamenashi asks, amused.

 

The games, the war, us. “Everything.”


End file.
